


touchin' like we know each other

by corrupted_voracity



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Anal Fingering, Attempt at Humor, Based on that one scene in The Spy Who Dumped Me, Bottom Persona 5 Protagonist, Coming In Pants, Coming Untouched, Internal Swearing, M/M, No actual sex but I'll tag the dynamic anyway because you know me and my silly little fics, Some feelings in the porn, Top Akechi Goro, basically 6k words of goro trying to remove a flash drive, crack treated seriously I guess, like a lot, unestablished relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-18 14:27:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29491305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corrupted_voracity/pseuds/corrupted_voracity
Summary: “Akira- I can’t believe this. Did you actually use your brain for once andswallowedthe flash drive?”“Uhm,” Akira says, and then pauses awkwardly. The already cramped room of the grimy hotel they momentarily found refuge in until they know what to do with the new turn of events feels a lot smaller with Goro this close. Akira shifts awkwardly, averting his eyes from Goro’s intense, scrutinizing ones. “No.”“... but you said it’s inside you,” Goro remarks slowly, as if he needs to make sure every letter is articulated perfectly and, first and foremost, that he heard correctly.Embarrassment licks at Akira’s neck. “Yeah,” he lamely says, words increasingly beginning to feel heavier in his mouth. “It’s inside of me but I just, uhm, didn’t swallow it?”Goro stares at him.Akira stares back.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 29
Kudos: 276





	touchin' like we know each other

**Author's Note:**

> Initially I wrote a short crack excerpt inspired by [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_XHHFcMqHD0) scene while watching the silly movie mentioned in the tags / video purely for my own entertainment, but then I talked to some people on discord and it escalated… 
> 
> **Shoutout to Purin’s Akeshu pit!**
> 
> This is all consensual and stupid and silly and a little unrealistic, but bear with me.

“This is disastrous,” Goro hisses. He’s pacing up and down the small room with the energy of a marathon runner that’s been aching to get onto track since a long term hiatus. “I can’t believe you just _threw_ it inside the toilet. Do you even know how big the sewer system is? It’d take us _ages_ to-”

“I still have it!” Akira quickly interrupts him. “It’s inside of me.”

Because first, the other’s movement is making him _dizzy,_ and second, he’s not _that_ incompetend, thank you very much.

God, for how long have they been working together already?

Goro stops his pacing not unlike how he performs unnecessarily flashy full brakes whenever their agency gives them fancy cars and Goro wins their traditional duel of rock paper scissors on who gets to drive. 

(Goro admittedly wins most of the time because of pure luck _“It’s not RNG, Akira, how many times do I-”,_ but Akira can’t even be mad about it when Goro looks so smug and prideful and utterly happy when he’s able to excersise authority on pursuits by crashing into other, inferior cars with inferior people inside them.)

Garnet eyes widen in disbelief. “It’s _what?_ ”

Goro is by him in a flash, grabbing Akira by his collar to pull him close before he has a chance to explain himself. 

Akira can’t blame him too much. The flash drive is the key of their mission, and if Goro were to let him think it’s _gone_ for the most part only to reveal that it isn’t, he’d be mad, too.

“Akira- I can’t believe this. Did you actually use your brain for once and _swallowed_ the flash drive?”

“Uhm,” Akira says, and then pauses awkwardly. The already cramped room of the grimy hotel they momentarily found refuge in until they know what to do with the new turn of events feels a lot smaller with Goro this close. Akira shifts awkwardly, averting his eyes from Goro’s intense, scrutinizing ones. “No.”

“... but you said it’s inside you,” Goro remarks slowly, as if he needs to make sure every letter is articulated perfectly and, first and foremost, that he heard correctly.

Embarrassment licks at Akira’s neck. “Yeah,” he lamely says, words increasingly beginning to feel heavier in his mouth. “It’s inside of me but I just, uhm, didn’t swallow it?”

Goro stares at him. 

Akira stares back. 

The tension continues to build until Akira can’t take the burning of his face any longer and he explodes in a flail of limbs and hastily blurted justifications. 

“I just- I did try to swallow it! But it wouldn’t stay down and I obviously couldn’t keep it under my clothes because I knew they were going to search me so of course I couldn’t just flush it down the toilet and I ran out of options and then I just got desperate, ok?!”

“Oh my god,” Goro breathes, letting go with a bewildered expression.

That trails downwards.

“Oh my god,” Goro repeats, realization finally settling in with the weight of a truck crashing into a bicycle. “Akira, what the actual fuck.”

Goro puts gloved fingers over his cheeks and eyes as if visual impairment could save him from the knowledge and undoubtedly _mental_ image, and Akira would appreciate the sight of his partner-bestfriend-rival-absolutely-not-crush being _flustered_ and at loss for words a lot more if it would be for literally any other reason. 

Akira turns and buries his own burning face in his hands and wishes for a black hole to swallow him. 

Maybe it would have been better for Goro _not_ to rescue him. 

“Then,” said male awkwardly says after a seconds of painful silence has passed and _someone_ has to address the issue at hand, “Can you get it, well, _out_?”

Akira makes a pitiful sound and nods. 

* * *

  
  


“I can’t get it out.”

Goro’s leaning over the sink, trying to summon the exact contents of the fine print his work contract sported to recall if such a situation was mentioned while also trying to blend out the _peculiar mixture of sounds_ reverberating through the small space when Akira’s breathy words cut through. 

It takes Goro a few seconds to process the implications of the sentence, and even then it hasn’t caught up to him to give more than a dignified response other than _“What.”_

A horrible squelching sound. 

“Goro,” Akira says, still out of breath, followed by an impatient huff. “For all the masochistic love I harbor for your cruel teasing, do _not_ make me repeat that, please.”

And Goro doesn’t know what to _do._ It was already a bad idea to follow Akira into the bathroom to supervise the process of _removing the flash drive_ when Akira could have just done it himself _,_ though Goro hasn’t really gotten much actual supervising done. 

Obviously. As if Akira would let him watch. 

Goro’s for sure been busy supervising his own face twist through a series of unsettling expressions while Akira was working in what little privacy the bathroom they technically have to share with another room has to offer.

Goro initially followed in case Akira needs _help_ because he’s a good partner, no matter what fairy tales Akira likes to tell all of their colleagues _,_ but he hasn’t exactly thought about what that _help_ entails in detail until this very moment. 

Much like the fine print of his work.

“Well,” Goro says, and breaks off. Proceeds to fight for words, something that never really happened to him, not when a gun is held point blank at his temple, not when Akira flustered him just a month ago by appearing in his office _on his day off_ to bring Goro the lunch and dinner he forgot like some sort of caring, doting _housewife._

Admittedly, that one was a pretty close call. 

Goro shakes his head. “We need to get it extracted as soon as possible.”

But they don’t have time to visit a hospital. Not to mention the doctor could somehow be affiliated with the enemy anyway and they _need_ the information desperately-

“Could, ah, could…could you do it?” comes Akira’s voice, slowly, meekly. 

“What,” Goro repeats, because his usual vast vocabulary has suffered heavy losses over the past five minutes. 

He doesn’t think about it, refuses to, _can’t._

“I think my fingers are too small,” Akira continues, undeterred and blissfully unaware of the internal crisis he’s putting Goro through. “Yours are definitely longer, though. You could probably reach it.”

Goro goes from staring holes into his reflection to evaluate the sight of his fingers gripping the rim of the sink tightly.

He knows Akira is right, _knew_ it beforehand even without looking at them because he’s always been painfully aware of how Akira’s hands are a little smaller in comparison to his whenever Goro got away with touching him (or Akira ignores his protest for personal space and links their fingers together), but Akira does not need to know that. 

He doesn’t need to know a lot of things. 

Goro knows he’s going to expose himself the moment he touches Akira for longer than a minute because any kind of contact with Akira, especially physical one, sends his usually so composed mind into overdrive each and every time. 

Cool, calm, collected Akechi Goro will combust. 

And the notion of….

_Fuck._

But now Goro _does_ end up thinking about it - his fingers working Akira open, inch by inch, slowly, deliberately, all to witness Akira come apart beneath his ministrations because Akira’s own fingers would never reach that deep inside of him and he’d writhe and turn and toss and _beg_ for more. 

All because- 

_-of the flash drive,_ Goro hisses to himself. 

The flash drive.

The flash drive.

The flash drive. 

He repeats the word enough times for it to start losing its familiarity, and proceeds to wrap it around his already fried nerve ends as a meager layer of protection. 

Goro surreptitiously clears his throat. Straightens his back, fixes his hair, quietly lets water drazzle into his palm to splash it across his warm face to gain _some_ sort of control over his life back. 

He’s Goro Akechi, experienced undercover agent, currently wearing an impeccable dress-shirt with a tie that makes him look even more like the professional he is. 

“It’s not like we have many options to consider in the first place,” he eventually says.

Akira lets out a sound of relief Goro probably wouldn’t have bat an eyelash at if it were under wholly different circumstances. 

They’re apparently really going to do this. 

“Alright. I’ll, uhm, just pass you the lube? Over the stall? Because I need to make myself… presentable. Before. Yeah.”

A bottle flies over the high separation layer a few seconds later. Goro catches it with all the aptness his occupation brings him. 

Right.

He should take off his gloves. But Goro already spilled water over them and he is quite sure skin on skin would make it even more of a personal experience which he needs the least of at the moment. 

And now Goro’s lubing up his fingers. He’s lubing up his _gloved_ fingers not with grimy oil or soap, but rather with actual _lube_ Akira apparently had with him for this mission for reasons Goro tries his hardest not to break his head over. 

“Akira,” he begins in an attempt to distract himself. Anything to not focus on the sticky texture laying heavy on the leather covering his fingers, how the viscous liquid glistens in the shady lighting. An affirmative hum from behind him. “Have you ever done something like this before?”

Immediately Goro winces at how _wrong_ the question sounds, especially when he only wanted to inquire about the act of having a flash drive extracted, coupled with the realization how utterly ridiculous that sounds. 

And Akira literally has _lube with him which was not a mission requirement._ Of course he did something like this before. 

There’s a sharp, breathy inhale, immediately covered up by a low cough. 

“N-not with someone else,” comes the tentative answer. “But I… trust you? Sorry, that sounds a little weird.”

It actually _doesn’t_ , they have been partners for _two_ goddamn years and Goro had a crush since _three_ because the moment Akira bumped into him at his office, all small and shy and weak and still in training, Goro’s protective instincts practically screamed despite himself but in this context it sounds more than inappropriate.

“Uhm, but I really do.”

The enemy must have found this shitty hotel and decided to give them a cruel, slow death by removing all the oxygen in the air because Goro suddenly can’t breathe and nearly knocks over the bottle in an attempt to steady himself. 

Akira continues to ramble on but Goro closes his eyes, tries to regain some semblance of being. 

_-with the brute force method, the computer is technically able to calculate a complete tree diagram of a game of chess which shows the outcome for every conceivable game course there is. Through this, the computer is only able to make perfect choices. But already at the fifth turn of the program there are nearly 70 trillion games of chess you could theoretically play, and with every turn the number grows so much that it’s impossible to calculate a definitive number of every possible game that could play out. A modern supercomputer would take 10 90 years to calculate a complete game tree, which is so long that the time from the Big Bang up until now isn’t nearly enough for the computer to calculate even its first move, and even that time multiplied by a billion wouldn’t- _

“-ro? Goro?”

“I’m fine,” Goro calls, pulling himself out of the bits he could recall from the documentary about chess and technology he watched on their way to the USA. 

It’s fine.

Goro’s more than fine. 

He’s now collected himself. He’s going to walk into the stall where Akira is making himself _presentable_ and he’s going to stick his now lubed up fingers up Akira's ass without contorting even a single inch of his face because he’s a _professional._

This means nothing in the face of what he already witnessed in his entire career. 

But Goro’s newfound resolve gets a considerable crack when the stall opens. He doubts even SEAL training could have prevented his breath from catching in his throat at the sight of Akira leaning against the wall, looking… yeah, looking. 

Though his clothes are fully on, they’re undeniable creased and _used_ and there’s absolutely no way to hide how worked up Akira is _,_ the blush riding high on his cheeks that, for once, are not restricted by his stupid glasses.

Silver eyes are slightly unfocused, hair messier than usual, and his pink, shining, glistening, _wet_ lips are open in an attempt to regulate his breathing better. 

If Akira finds _this_ presentable, then Goro doesn’t want to know how he looked like minutes ago. Though with how _fucked out_ Akira already seems, Goro has a vague idea. 

He vehemently fights against the urge to expand on that very idea to instead inspect the stall. Anything that isn’t Akira at the moment, really. There’s… fluid he’s not going to look closer at on the floor, and no matter how inviting Akira seems, his surroundings definitely are not.

“Let’s… move to the bed,” Goro raspily declares, because there’s no way two people are gonna fit inside and god forbid he does this with Akira in a bathroom with questionable hygiene. 

His tie feels awfully constrictive around his neck when Akira nods. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


It’s a whole new level of awkward in the small bedroom. Akira is still lingering behind, probably as reluctant as Goro’s feels, just for entirely different reasons. 

Goro’s gone through the process of rolling up his sleeves and pulling them down approximately three times. The same goes for his tie, but in the end he just chose to loosen it and lets his sleeves stay at elbow length because he wouldn’t want it to get in the way. 

He doesn’t want to come over as overly prepared _,_ or, even worse, _eager._

He’s doing this for the sake of their _mission._

And Akira doesn’t look small. He usually goes unnoticed at first glance, lets Goro do the flashy work to pull attention on them, and it’s always something Goro’s loved and loathed in the same breath because it meant no one is paying Akira the attention they _should,_ but at the same time it means only Goro gets to see Akira open up. Going from bashful and quiet to mischievous and downright evil at times. 

But Akira _does_ seem smaller than usual, perhaps a little demure in the way he’s reaching for his shirt as if it’s suddenly too big for him. 

A part of Goro he’s not familiar with wants to come over and try and comfort him - whatever that means, he’ll most likely find that out spontaneously - but the knowledge of what they’re about to do has an iron grip on him so he merely exhales and sits down on the bed. 

Again, he’s doing this for the sake of the _mission._

Like the one time Akira followed up on the dare to stab Goro’s thigh without remorse in order to not blow up their cover amidst rounds of dangerous yakuza simply because Goro spoke a sentence too much. This isn’t any different. 

Except it _is._

Goro’s about to insert his fingers into his goddamn crush while having to pretend it’s _nothing,_ during and afterwards. 

As Akira unbuttons his shirt, Goro’s hands start to get clammy inside their confines. 

He regrets lubing up beforehand, but what was he supposed to do when Akira threw the small bottle at him? Stare at it, evaluate the form and aesthetic value? Think about how often Akira does this, how exactly, _for whom?_

Goro also asks himself if Akira’s just undressing himself to test Goro’s sanity even further, but then he remembers it’s probably easier to move and breathe with less restriction and he should get as comfortable as he can get. And Akira’s only _unbuttoned_ his shirt and shimmied out of his loose pants which is a fraction more manageable, even if the boxers do little to hide the other’s arousal. 

Akira settles onto the bed. It dips lightly, and suddenly they’re face to face, both fully aware of what is going to happen. With how thick his tongue is, Goro can’t say anything, so he gives a curt nod. Akira returns it with a wobbly smile. 

The tension doesn't dissipate. 

“How do you want me?” Akira asks once he’s also discarded his boxers and Goro is too busy keeping his eyes on Akira’s face that he doesn’t notice the slight crack in Akira’s voice. 

Though he does process the question itself and tries to keep his calm at the suggestive undertones in it. Unintentional, Goro reminds himself. 

Akira merely means in what position Goro can access him the best. Which is… basically the same thing, now that he thinks about it, and god can his fucking blood circulation stop ending in his dick and go back to his brain?

“Whatever you’re more comfortable with,” Goro eventually replies. 

Prays that Akira doesn’t hear the strained lilt to his words because he can only remain unaffected to a certain extent when Akira is almost naked in front of him and getting ready for his… fingers. 

There’s a brief moment in which Akira’s gaze darts to Goro’s hands, no doubt taking in the lube spread across the black, glistening surface of the leather. Though the gray in his eyes darken, lips parting for a fraction of time, and now Goro isn’t so sure if he can disassociate himself from what he’s going to do next his if his mind starts to blend fantasy and reality together. 

Maybe he should have pulled off his gloves and slept a little more. 

Akira turns and lowers himself on all fours, looking as red as Goro internally feels. 

Right. They’re _both_ embarrassed, it’s not just a one-sided situation. Goro’s merely helping him out of a precarious situation like good work colleagues do. He’s merely getting the flash drive out because they don’t have any other option and Akira trusts him with this one. 

Akira trusts him.

That alone is already such a vulnerable, impossibly precious thing in their line of work that his heart starts to pound for different reasons than dreadful anticipation.

And… Akira has a nice ass. Like, really nice. So nice Goro asks himself why he never paid proper attention to it. Then again Akira’s never the one to wear form fitting clothes, at least on his lower half. So how should Goro have known?

Sure, there was this one time in Egypt where Akira wore a dress for an another undercover mission, but Goro had immediately volunteered to stay back in the van and do the nasty communication and observation work opposed to being on the frontside where a fully trained undercover agent should _be_ because whatever stirred inside of him as he saw the red material clinging to Akira like a second skin wasn’t very appropiate for _colleagues_ (why the fuck did Akira go for a dress in the first place, couldn’t he have gone for a _suit?_ ).

It was still agony because Futaba and Ann had to hold him off from storming into the building to shoot every old geezer (and occasional woman) who so much leered at Akira. 

Their strength alone actually wouldn't have prevented Goro from doing that, but the knowledge that he'd jeopardize the entire mission and most likely risk Akira’s life on top of that kept him in check. 

Ok, maybe Goro has stared a little at Akira’s ass before. And maybe he’s already a bit familiar with it, so what? Akira stares at his, too. 

Goro’s definitely never seen Akira's _bare._

Adjusting his gloves, he mentally braces himself as much as he can. “I’ll… start,” he says, just barely catching himself from saying _I’ll put it in_ instead. 

Where _should_ he even start. He’s done this before of course, just… not to _Akira_ and under whole different circumstances. Should he just go for it? Should he give in a little and pet those tantalizing globes first under the pretense of easing Akira into it? 

No, that’d overstep their boundaries. Akira asked him to get it out, not to get him off or to linger or to make him feel good. 

He shouldn't drag this out any longer than necessary, for this mentalities sake, too. 

Goro does have to brace one hand on his ass, though. His fingers sink in a little - the gloves are _definitely_ a good choice because already does it feel so fucking soft and yet firm and he wants to _squeeze,_ but he concentrates on lining up his fingers.

He carefully slips the tip in. The warmth stems mostly from Goro himself since he’s sweating more than he likes to admit, but Akira gasps and clenches so hard around him that he almost doesn’t believe the other did this before if not for the proof that some leftover lube is being pushed out, trickling down the inside of his thigh. 

Which is still glossy, probably from his previous attempts. 

“Akira,” Goro hisses when he can’t push further. “Relax.”

His entrance will bite off his finger at this rate, and maybe even his dick - Goro’s semi hard from this already, and while Akira’s position on all fours isn’t healthy for the arousal Goro’s trying his best to suppress, it admittedly saves him from having to explain Akira why he’s having an erection in the middle of this.

Then again, empathetic, sweet Akira would most likely understand. Physical reaction and all. Which would still imply Goro’s physically attracted to Akira which is a weakness he can’t deny, and one his partner would mercilessly abuse. 

Akira takes a deep breath, and it doesn’t take long for Goro to regain the feeling in his finger again. 

He tries _not_ to make the connection between his cock and the sight of his finger gradually being swallowed by the hole.

"You're way too tight," Goro murmurs.

“S-sorry, can’t help it,” Akira responds, voice audibly strained. 

Goro exhales before sliding it in further, painfully slow, trying not to concentrate on how Akira’s thighs quiver under his increasingly stronger grip to keep Akira in place. 

He’s hyperaware of fucking everything.

The hitch in their breathes, the way white sheets contort when Akira claws at them, how his thighs shake with each flutter of his inner walls, the dip of his back that’s gradually getting more prominent and revealed due to his shirt riding up. The contrast Goro’s leather gloves paint against the expanse of creamy, flushed skin, making them seem even larger, how every inhale of air _burns_ Goro’s lungs from the inside out. 

It’s all too much and yet so little at once that it stretches Goro's patience to lengths he never thought himself capable of. 

But still no flash drive and therefore no end of this cruel torture in sight. 

Goro’s not sure how much time has passed - an eternity, he’s sure - but a conscious look at his fingers makes him realize he only has little more than half of it in. 

He bites back a groan at the thought of having to go in even deeper. 

But he _needs_ to if he wants to get it done. So Goro moves his finger around, explorative, growing warmer at the little, breathy gasps Akira lets out that is almost lost in between the wet drag of leather against skin. 

“How far did you put it in?” Goro quietly says, feeling the burn on his face spread outwards, worming its way through his entire body.

The leather may dull the direct sensations of Akira’s hole clamping around him, but the sight of a part of him gradually disappearing into Akira is a different experience altogether. 

“Not that deep,” Akira answers.

It comes muffled, and Goro pries his eyes away from the stretch of a pink rim to see that Akira is speaking into the crook of his chest and elbow, hiding both sound and face even more.

Good. Goro doesn’t think he’d be able to control himself if he bore witness to that directly, not when the sounds that already reverberate painfully loud throughout the room due to the heated atmosphere affects him this much already. 

“ _Not that deep,”_ Goro huffs, still unable to make contact with a foreign object. 

“It just kept getting deeper and… deeper as we ran and in our car ride it just, yeah,” Akira explains himself before inelegantly breaking off. 

Upon hearing the words car ride, Goro’s brain instantly provides him with images. And, oh. That’s the reason why Akira looked a little uncomfortable. 

Goro wrote it off as adrenaline and exhaustion, but-

-Akira, squirming in his seat not because of the light bruises but because of something _inside him,_ pressing against his most intimate places for the entirety of the ride, and _that’s_ why whenever Goro drove over some bumps or had to take sharp turns Akira let out those _sounds_.

Goro exhales. He can do this. He’s a trained undercover agent. He shoots bad guys between the eyes without flinching, especially when they annoy him. 

This is nothing.

Except this is fucking everything because Akira has started to progressively squirm and arch his brack and is letting out these little moans as Goro’s forced to go even deeper, probing at tight flesh as if the flash drive could _merge_ with Akira’s walls and Goro has to remind himself that these are natural reactions, maybe even pained - another moan - alright, maybe not pained, but Akira can’t help himself, just like how hard _Goro_ is in his pants. 

It’s not like Goro is making him feel good on purpose, and it’s not like Goro wants to remove his fingers to properly fuck Akira silly in this moment. 

“G-goro,” Akira pants, and only now he realizes that he was a little distracted and started moving his fingers in a way that does not _,_ in fact, contribute to the search of the flash drive. 

But Akira already sounds so wrecked and while Goro’s now almost knuckle deep in, it’s only one finger.

How would he react with two, how would he react with his co-

“Akira,” Goro grits out because he can’t possibly articulate his _other_ thoughts. 

Stop moaning? Stop sounding like you enjoy this? Stop tempting me to do so much more?

Goro should have taken the time to pull his hair into a ponytail because it sticks to his nape and partially to his face, too. But before he can deign to remove one hand and get the annoying strands out of his face, his finger finally brushes something. 

Spurred on, Goro tries to make out the shape by pushing a little more, only to freeze completely up when a guttural moan is forced out of Akira’s throat, louder and raspier than anything else, and Goro can only watch as Akira collapses onto his forearms a second later which brings his ass higher which almost makes it worse due to the angle and the view is _illegal._

Judging from Akira’s reaction, Goro apparently found his prostate instead of the flash drive.

“My apologies,” Goro murmurs, suddenly feeling ten times too hot in his clothing. He retracts and changes the path of his fingers, soothingly rubbing his thumb over the swell of Akira’s ass with his free hand. 

Akira shivers.

“It’s fine,” the other’s voice drones into the sheets. “Not like you were doing it intentionally.”

God forbid Goro didn’t do it intentionally. In his current state of mind, he trusts his fingers to betray and conspire against him. 

Realizing his brain is taking a little too long to process the sight of Akira increasingly melting into the bed because of him, Goro closes his eyes to take a deep, much needed breath.

Is this how Makoto feels when she has to diffuse a bomb? 

He probes deeper, blending out the tremors he can now properly _feel_ taking hold of Akira’s body and walls. A wispy mewl graces his ears next, and Goro finally brushes against something hard again. 

This time he explores the edges of it carefully to make sure it’s the flash drive.

It is, though, and Goro hates how the slightest bits of disappointment mix into the evident relief that forces a shaky exhale out of him. 

“I found it,” he murmurs, tracing over the metallic edge once more. 

It _is_ a little deep inside. He opens his eyes to see Akira’s hole hungrily swallowing his entire finger up to his knuckle and a little more. Which does indeed confirm that he can reach places Akira can’t. 

Amidst the whirlwind of emotions demanding Goro’s attention, the undeniable proof makes him a little smug and light headed, though he forces it down in order to focus on the actual task at hand. 

“Great. C-can you pull it out?” Akira asks, entirely too throaty.

Goro’s nostril flare. “I’ll need to insert a second finger.”

Akira laughs breathlessly in response. “Alright. Just, don’t push it in deeper please. I don’t want to explain this to any hospital.”

“Akira- _concentrate_ , would you?”

“Sorry, sorry.”

Goro pushes a second finger in, faster than before. It’s both easier and harder this time, but Akira must have gotten used enough to the intrusion of one finger that he accepts the second almost eagerly. 

Once both of Goro’s digits brush the edge of the flash drive, he tries to spread them. But Akira lets out a half gasp, half moan and his walls constrict immediately, nearly making Goro double over at the sheer force trapping him. His hand outside of Akira glides towards his hip to prevent the other from trashing too much.

“Try to relax a little more,” Goro grits out. 

He shallowly retracts his fingers before moving them back inside in an attempt to ge Akira used to movement. It works partially - Akira stiffles another moan with a broken syllable Goro is unable to catch, but he also unclenches just the tiniest bit. 

“Sorry,” Akira pants as soon as he’s somewhat recovered from the new sensation. “It’s just, your fingers feel… really good.”

Goro opens his mouth and closes it. 

His fingers feel good. He stares. His _gloved_ fingers feel good. And Akira admitted something he didn’t have to, something that doesn’t fit into the parameters of their current situation. 

Akira’s back is positively arched now. But lax, despite the tension eating up Goro’s fingers, like he’s comfortable. Like he’s not only trusting him and doing this out of necessity, but like he’s… _actually_ enjoying this, not purely out of physical stimulus, but also because of _Goro._

Too much time must have passed without him doing anything because Akira lifts his head, looking over his shoulder so that eventually Goro is left with no choice but to lock their gazes. 

And what notions unfold in Goro’s head next are very spontaneous and thoroughly not calculated, but Akira’s dilated pupils cut some of Goro’s restraints loose and he _wants._

Not breaking eye contact, Goro retracts his fingers just the tiniest bit, only to push against his prostate this time. And Akira lets out a surprised sound, head thrown back, spine curving into a pretty bow. Goro can’t decide where to look - the droplets of sweat running down Akira’s back, the blissed out expression his face has contorted into. 

Akira eyes him from the side now, mouth visibly working around his next words in confusion. “Goro, what are you doing?”

“Trust me,” Goro growls. 

Akira’s eyebrows furrow a little. “I do, but if you keep this up, I’ll-”

Goro removes his digits. Before the other can question his actions, he presses into the tantalizing curve of Akira’s back. And the other follows the movement, falls down so easily, so obediently that it gives Goro the impression he could direct him into _any_ position, however he wants, and then Goro advances to quickly flip Akira onto his back. 

As he hovers over him, Goro drinks the new perspective in - fuck, it was a good thing he wasn’t able to see Akira properly because his partner is a panting, flushed mess that conjure all kinds of future scenarios inside his head. 

Bleary eyes with long eyelashes try to focus on him, no doubt noticing the hungry expression Goro’s unable to keep from slipping into his stare. Goro lets his gaze trail lower and bites his lip at the flushed, hard length pressed against a quivering abdomen. 

Goro can’t do anything but breach Akira’s hole again. And now that the other doesn’t have to support his weight on his legs and arms anymore, Akira turns and tosses. Whines in a sensual pitch that elicit a groan out of Goro himself as raw desire overtakes. 

He’s no longer in control of his body. But Akira lays beneath him, so open, so pliant and ready to be used. 

Waiting. 

“I’ll help you relax,” Goro breathes and hovers closer.

To visually take in even _more_ as he forces his fingers deeper, this time not for the flash drive, but rather for his prostate again. He barely catches himself from kissing Akira - the smallest parts left of rationality prevent him from doing so. It would overstep too much, blurr too many lines and edges. 

No, he’s going to make Akira cum and relax and use the small window of relaxation afterwards to get the flash drive out.

“Goro,” Akira rasps. 

Fingers entangle in Goro's damp hair, and he feels himself getting dragged down, right against plush lips, something he so vehemently denied himself. 

And before he knows it, he’s _kissing_ Akira. 

The same lips he fantisized countless of times move against his and it’s so fucking _nice_ that Goro feels like he could cum in his pants like a fucking teenager from a mere _kiss,_ but Goro thinks he’d be able to sacrifice that part of his pride for once because while this is what he wanted, yearned for, he didn’t think he’d ever get it. 

Always thought their little flirts and games were nothing more than that. 

But for Akira to initiate the kiss?

 _Akira_ who is opening his mouth to lure Goro’s tongue inside, just like his body accepts Goro’s fingers. 

And as Goro mindlessly spreads his fingers wider to swallow Akira’s needy sounds directly, warm, _so warm,_ it occurs to him that he probably never stood a chance in the first place. 

They have to separate because not only do his lungs scream for air, but also because Goro’s been focussed less on working him open. Akira’s mouth monopolized all of Goro’s attention for a few, thundering heartbeats. 

So Goro resumes his earlier ministrations and starts to thrust in earnest, watching intently how Akira’s eyes fly wide again. 

Goro feels one hand leave his hair - probably so Akira can catch some of the lewd sounds he makes, but Goro is faster, intercepts it by pinning his wrist next to his head, leaning his weight into it to keep it there. 

Not giving him any respite, Goro presses harshly against his prostate, thrusts and rubs for all he is worth, and _god_ Akira unravels so beautifully, mouth giving shape to all sorts of moans and whimpers Goro’s barely able to register with how _loud_ everything is inside his head. with how _much_ he’s taking in. 

“Goro, Goro-” Akira chants, and Goro can only continue with feverish want, helplessly trapped in whatever spell Akira casted upon him since the very beginning. 

Then Akira _cries out_ his name in a pitch that has Goro see white. And only when Akira’s whimpers grow positively _pitiful,_ when his boy curls in on himself and he’s starting to shy away from his touch and fingers does Goro realize what’s happening. 

He’s- overstimulating him.

Akira _came._

“P-pull it out,” Akira stutters, and Goro’s brain races through ten different scenarios before he suddenly remembers why he’s doing this in the first place. 

He murmurs a low apology when Akira groans at Goro’s fingers reaching deeper again, spreading wide around the base of the flash drive, but this time Goro’s able to grip it.

He carefully pulls it out, and they share a moment of relief amidst the aftermaths of pleasure.

Goro stares at the small flash drive. Stares at Akira, immobile, spread beneath him and clearly spent while his flimsy shirt barely hangs onto his lithe frame with all the moving he did. 

Akira’s bleary eyes slowly regain focus. The hand still grasping onto Goro’s hair moves towards his cheek, and despite himself, Goro can’t help but lean into the touch, feeling weirdly afloat and detached. 

“Are you- alright?” Akira asks, impossibly quiet. 

Goro blinks.

“...I’m fine,” he manages to articulate. “I’m… fine.”

Maybe, probably, hopefully.

He doesn't know where to begin with the current predicament they're in. 

The tight lines of Akira’s face relax, but Goro knows the other isn’t satisfied with the answer. 

Then something _else_ hits him.

Before Goro can open his mouth to distract the other, Akira’s eyes already travel lower.

And now Goro _knows_ how Akira felt when confessing the flash drive was up his ass because Goro came inside his pants without any sorts of direct stimulation, simply because he saw Akira coming undone beneath him. 

“...You're not going to tell _anyone,_ ” Goro says, eyes narrowing. 

Slowly, Akira pats his cheek. And smirks. 

“Nope.”

"That wasn't a question," Goro hisses before diving back in. 

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> ThisIdk why they didn't do it in the bedroom in the first place? I don't know. Also, I have neither an explanation nor an excuse for this.
> 
> If you're reading this Lolo, feel booped
> 
> [My (mostly) Akeshu twitter!](https://twitter.com/voraciousTash)


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